


your arms wrapped around me and this moment

by elsaclack



Series: i know soon we'll be together [9]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, What else is new, anyways amy's being retrospective, other than myself, this one is fully organic i can't blame it on anyone, yet another hiatus fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsaclack/pseuds/elsaclack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How did you know they were the one?"</p><p>"I just...knew."</p>
            </blockquote>





	your arms wrapped around me and this moment

**Author's Note:**

> u can ask me what this is but i guarantee u i have no idea i don’t even know if i like this one but i liked the concept and took my best shot
> 
> i need to be stopped

_“I just…knew.”_

Amy _hates_ that phrase.

There is no _logic_ behind it. There’s no solid proof, no incontestable facts. While intuition and instinct are both important and vital, they’re hardly reliable sources on their own. The phrase would _never_ hold up in court, is all she’s saying; she can practically _see_ Sophia scoffing in her head.

_“Mama, how did you know Papa is your alma gemela?”  
_

_“I don’t know, niña, I just…knew.”_

Honestly, she still doesn’t know what she was expecting as an answer. But it certainly wasn’t _that_.

And maybe that’s been her problem all along. She’s never been one to waste time in fickle, fairy tale-esque daydreams about knights in shining armor slaying the dragon and kissing the princess awake (which, okay, don’t even get her started on the gross implications of that trope, _ew_ ). Amy is so deeply entrenched in reality that the concept of _just knowing anything_  without any further explanation feels foreign and deeply uncomfortable to her.

Of course she learns, as an adult, how to listen to her own instincts and to follow her own intuition in the field. It’s how she was able to rise through the ranks to detective so quickly (not that she would _ever_ let Peralta find out, just imagine the field day he’d have upon discovering that her promotion to the Nine-Nine came on the heels of her busting a major drug deal based on a gut feeling she’d had to run her patrol down Fifth Avenue rather than sticking to the outskirts of Times Square). It gets easier as time wears on; at least, it gets easier in her professional life.

Her love life is a completely different (and far more tragic) story. It’s like there’s some kind of massive disconnect somewhere in her brain when it comes to her ability to maintain a healthy relationship. And, of course, the fact that she’s basically at the constant beck and call of her job certainly does nothing to nurture the relationships. Relationships are _hard work_ and she just simply doesn’t have the time. And it doesn’t help that almost every guy she’s ever dated talks about love at first sight (more specifically, how they actually believe in it). There is simply no room for any of that fairy tale nonsense in functioning adult relationships.

_“Papa, how’d you know you wanted to marry Mama?”  
_

_“Good question, baby. I just woke up one morning and it was time to get married.”  
_

_“But how’d you know? What happened?”  
_

_“Well nothing happened, niña. I just kind of knew that it was time.”_

There were several bad omens at the beginning of her relationship with Jake. There was the whole losing Holt thing, and then the whole killing their new captain thing, and then the whole being-ordered-to-break-up thing. Not to mention they very nearly fell apart - _twice_ \- within the first few days of the relationship. Jake’s always been one to throw himself into new situations with a kind of reckless abandon Amy can only dream about (something she’s always secretly admired about him), but Amy…well, she’s _logical_.

Something he says he’s always admired about her, coincidentally.

The point is, there was _nothing_ logical about the beginning of their relationship aside from pursuing a mutual attraction, except, when she took it down to its’ bare bones, she realized that Jake was right - it _was_ something worth fighting for (and it still is, for the record). They fought tooth and nail and managed to survive what would have easily destroyed all of her past relationships (including Teddy) and even though it hasn’t been easy (oh _God_ , it hasn’t been easy) it’s been… _different_. Good, different.

Somehow. She can’t quite put her finger on it, and it drives her crazy. It’s like, nothing has changed. But _everything_ has changed. They’re still Santiago and Peralta, but now they’re _Amy and Jake_. Same world, just tilted on its’ axis a few degrees.

It takes a few months to get used to, if she’s being honest. But a few months in Amy finds herself taking a page from his book and throwing caution to the wind and saying “I love you” first - she’s _never_ said it first - and it’s the look in his eyes the moment he says it back that makes her realize that she has got it _bad_ for this man. Of course, in retrospect, she supposes she’s _always_ kind of had it bad for him; it’s no matter, he assures her later, because he’s had it worse for her for far longer.

Still, there is a progressive line leading to that moment that Amy can easily follow. Mountains and valleys and twists and turns, all of which were scaled _together_ with the greatest of care, hard work and determination and a mutual respect that lead them to such a fantastic moment of shared intimacy and trust.

To think, all that hard work can be ripped away by one stupid, selfish man.

_“I just…knew.”_

In the weeks following her time undercover in Texas, Amy reaches several conclusions she files away later as irrefutable facts: first, there is nothing on Earth more fragile-looking than Jacob Peralta the moments before he’s forced to leave his family and friends behind. Second, Captain Holt somehow manages to make a Hawaiian shirt look dignified. And third, Amy Santiago and Rosa Diaz are going to stop Jimmy Figgis or they are going to die trying.

These three things she knows for sure. Everything else is hazy and uncertain.

And it’s just over three months later that the third conclusion becomes reality. It starts with an anonymous tip claiming Figgis was boarding a flight to Coral Springs. Five desperate phone calls, one tense plane ride, one high-speed car chase down a Floridian highway, and one dramatic shootout in a minimart parking lot later, Figgis is in handcuffs being lead into the back of a squad car. Her head is spinning a little bit, partially because of the light-headed victory currently surging through her system, but mostly because of what is likely a mild concussion from when she’d had to dive to the ground to avoid gunfire. The whole world is a little bit amplified: streetlights too bright, air too thick and swelteringly humid, police and ambulance sirens too loud as they rise and fall into the night. There are people _everywhere_ in the parking lot, and even though the case her entire heart and soul has been invested in for the last three months is finally over, Amy’s still on-edge. It’s uncomfortable, sitting like a stone in her chest, and she can’t stop herself from glancing around the parking lot nervously.

It isn’t over yet, she realizes. And on the heels of that realization comes one very important and equally unanswerable question: _how the hell do I know that?_

The answer comes shuffling out of the minimart’s automatic doors just a few moments later. And suddenly Amy loses the ability to think because there, just a few yards in front of her, is _Jake_. The how and the why are beyond her because it’s _real and happening_ , right there, _right in front of her_.

 _Jake_.

He’s rubbing his left wrist compulsively, eyes cautious and guarded as they dart warily around the scene in the parking lot. Amy’s still struggling to remember how to intake air when his eyes (warm and dark and so blessedly familiar) land on her.

(There’s an agonizing half-second where they stay empty, where her heart quite literally drops to her heels and her whole life feels like it’s falling apart because he’s looking at her but he’s not really _looking_ at her, but -)

To say his eyes spark with recognition would be an understatement. His whole _body_ (his soul, too, he’ll tell her later) lights up faster than the vending machine did that one time it caught on fire and if his wrist is still bothering him he seems to forget just like she’s forgotten that she has a concussion. None of it matters, she doesn’t _care_ , because right there in the center of this too-loud-too-colorful-too-bright world is _Jake_.

Everything about the last three months melts away as she takes off at a sprint toward him. It’s cliché but that fact doesn’t reach her, nothing is reaching her beyond the desperate look on Jake’s face as he races to meet her in the middle. He’s within arm’s length when she realizes she’s full-on ugly crying but it doesn’t matter because the next second he’s sweeping her off her feet and she’s got both her arms around him like a vice and they’re not Santiago and Peralta, they’re not even Amy and Jake, they are - they _are_.

They are _home_. They are _love_. They are _light_ and _togetherness_ and  _tenderness_ and _peace_. They’re _wholeness_ and _joy_ and finally, finally,  _finally_.

She feels his whole body trembling beneath hers and she can feel her own heart beating for the first time in _months_ , totally out-of-sync with his hummingbird pulse thrumming against her chest, and it’s like - something  _clicks_. Somewhere deep inside her brain, a cog that has been loose is suddenly back in place. He tucks his face into the bend of her neck and it’s like a plug sinking into a socket - a perfect fit. His hands wrap tightly around her, one on her rib cage, one on the back of her neck, and it’s like those specific spots were made with his hands in mind from how well his palms fit against her. She clings tighter to the loose fabric of his t-shirt because she can - because even though she’s been dreaming of this moment for weeks now, her imagination couldn’t even come _close_ to what is real and solid and sobbing in relief beneath her.

And somewhere in the back of her head, she hears a whisper:

_“I just…knew.”_

“Mom?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you know you wanted to marry Daddy?”

Amy automatically glances to her right, toward Jake. He’s asleep on the couch in their darkened living room, mouth slightly agape. Eli's sprawled halfway across Jake’s chest, and Jake’s left hand rests loosely on Eli's back, ready to steady him should he roll over in his sleep. The faint combined gleam of Jake’s silver wedding band and matching engagement ring beneath the flickering lights of the muted television catches her eye, and she feels that familiar bud of warmth blossom right in the center of her chest for a moment.

“Well,” Amy says softly, turning her attention back to Rey. Her daughter’s eyes are wide, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and despite the fact that she’s up late working on compiling her precinct’s arrest records for the commissioner and Rey is up late working on multiplying fractions, for what is probably the billionth time that week alone, Amy marvels at the fact that this life belongs to her. “This is gonna sound kind of weird.” Amy starts. Rey nods quickly. “I knew your dad for a really long time before we even started dating and I never wanted to marry him back then. We were just friends.”

“What changed?”

“ _We_ did. We both became better people and better friends, and then we fell in love.”

“But how did you know you wanted to get _married_?”

Amy smiles softly and brushes Rey's hair behind her ear. In her mind, she can still feel that muggy Florida air and Jake’s arms wound tightly around her. Despite all the years, her heart skips in her chest. “I just…knew.” She says with a shrug.

She’ll tell Rey the whole story later - about their first dance, their first kiss, their first “I love you,” and maybe even the moment she _knew_ , but for now…Amy’s pretty certain there are no words.

She waits until Rey is absorbed in her fractions again before stealing another glance at Jake and Eli, and this time Jake is awake and half-smiling at her, eyes only partially open in sleepiness, thumb slowly twisting his rings around his finger.

No fairy tales or magic here, Amy reasons as she smiles back. Just love, hard work, mutual respect, and instinct.

Or something like that.


End file.
